


Tipsy and Free

by DeathByTitanium



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feelings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, drunk nesta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByTitanium/pseuds/DeathByTitanium
Summary: A fight with Cassian prompts Nesta to get drunk. Cassian takes care of her and the aftereffects.





	Tipsy and Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for clicking! Enjoy!

 

They had had a fight. It happened pretty often, hell they loved fighting sometimes. But mostly their fights ended in varying levels of hard lovemaking. Not this time… This time that hadn’t been how it had ended. If he were feeling honest he’d admit it was… a miscalculation on his part. Normally he was very aware of moods and how to deal with them, but Nesta had always been tough to read and it was still her first instinct to hide behind those walls of her’s whenever she felt anything strong. It sounds like a lame excuse, and hell it was, but in his defense, when they found out how amazing the sex was after a fight… sometimes they’d just pick stupid meaningless fights hoping that it would end in rough sex pressed into a wall or a closet or a table… what could he say, mildly angry spontaneous sex was better than just run of the mill rough sex.

So when she’d accused him of not loving her anymore because he’d been away at the Illyrian Steppes for too long and then coming home only to stay in the street talking to some pretty fae floozy before coming to her, he had thought she was just joking. He pushed back because he thought she was just going for a little fight.

Like he said, miscalculation.

Next thing he knew she was going into their room, taking a few clothes in a bag and walking out of their townhouse. He was floored when he realized his mistake, realized she’d been trying to reign in her real hurt. She was so strong and fearless that he forgot sometimes that she could be insecure, especially of him and his affections. She still had a hard time understanding that he loved her and only her, and always would.

Their relationship, the acceptance of their mating bond and subsequent marriage, was new enough that it was understandable she might still have these insecurities. Two years and a half compared to an average fae’s life span _was_ close to nothing, and perhaps that was what she thought when she saw him in the street, that compared to his near six hundred years their time was neglectable.

He sighed, he needed to tell her more often how important she was to him, how she made his life so bright, so dazzling, compared to what it had been. He sometimes thought she didn’t believe it, but how could he explain that just because he laughed and joked and smiled all the time didn’t mean he was happy? How could he explain that even the times that he had thought he was happy it had been nothing compared to how he felt with her?

So he lay sprawled on their couch, missing his mate more and more by the second, trying to wait until he thought she’d want to talk to him again.

_Cassian?_

The voice came into his head abruptly. Even though he was used to hearing Rhys in his head after nearly six hundred years, but Feyre was still a little new to him. **_What?_ ** He answered.

_So, um, Nesta… she came over a little while back and she said she wanted to go to a bar and talk._

**_Yeah?_ **

_Um… She’s drunk… and she doesn’t want to leave. She keeps saying she wants her mate._

**_I’ll be right there._ **

 

* * *

 

The first thing he heard was a loud “CASSIAN!” obviously coming from Nesta. He smiled gently, walking to her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he tucked a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear gently. “Are you okay?”

She smiled broadly up at him, her entire face squishing up because of it. “My mate!” she said excitedly, and too loudly. “My mate is so pretty! Feyre! Isn’t he pretty?”

Feyre, that was presently trying to ensure her sister stayed on the bar stool, just sighed, “Yeah Nesta, he’s pretty.”

Cassian inspected her, noticing that her pupils were dilated, “How much did you have to drink, love?” he asked, looking at Feyre for the answer.

Feyre shook her head, “Not that much actually, just three whiskeys.”

Nesta laughed, “Mor gave me a thing. I took it with my whiskey.”

They both looked at her, eyebrows drawn together, “What did Mor give you, sweetheart?” He asked as gently as possible, caressing her face and running his fingers through her hair.

She scrunched up her nose, her mouth twisting to the side as she thought about it, “A lil _thing_ .” she said, lifting her hand making a circle with her forefinger on her thumb, “She said it would make me… happy. I think. Or maybe… _free_! She said I’d be free!” her face changed into a pout, voice small, “I thought… that, if I was free… you’d love me again.”

“I _do_ love you, Nesta.” He said with a little smile, “I’ll _always_ love you, Nes, you’re part of me, the best part. Of course I love you.”

“But you went away for a long time,” (it had been little more than a week but it felt like a lot to him, too,) he was about to say that it was his job but she continued, “I know it’s your job but you came home but you didn’t come to me,” she said sadly, tears gathering in her eyes, “You went to talk to someone on the street.”

He kissed her forehead, getting closer to her and wrapping his arms around her, “Stupid of me. I missed you so much, I should have flown straight through the window, but I thought you wouldn’t like me messing up our house.”

She shook her head, “I don’t know why I do that… pick fights like that… I don’t like the mess but I don’t need to get mad at you… Maybe it’s because the sex is so good when we get annoyed and angry with each other.”

He smiled even as he heard Feyre groan at the bit of _very_ uncharacteristic oversharing from her sister, “That does help,” he said quietly, “Do you want to go home, sweetheart?”

She just wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his shirt as she nodded her head. He took her from the stool prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. “Fly me.” she said.

“I will.” He answered, “Feyre, do me a favor and warn Mor that I’m going to throttle her the next time I see her for giving my mate a drug.” Feyre nodded her head as he walked out of the bar, shooting into the air as soon as he saw stars.

Nesta hummed contently as he flew slowly to their house, something he’d never heard her do before, at least not unless she was doing a mindless task and she got away from herself. He landed on the roof walking toward the stairs that led into their house. He placed her gently on the bed, despite her protests and went to the bathroom to get a wet cloth and her make up remover. When they’d started living together it had been a surprise to him to find that she woke up every morning and used the various paints on her already lovely face. But as she did indeed use them, he knew she would have to clean her face before bed.

He sat down next to her on their bed, her eyes tracking his every move, “Let’s let that pretty face of yours breathe,” he said with a gentle smile. She just nodded as he reached toward her with the cloth, starting gentle little sweeps, slowly revealing the gentle sprinkling of freckles on her nose, the little scar above her lip, the light color of her brows.

She looked up at him throughout the whole thing, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips before moving to her braided hair, removing pin after pin, feeling the strands falling gently. He loved how much she relied on him in that moment, how she looked up at him in near awe at his gently ministrations.

 “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked, looking her in the eyes.

She frowned deeply, “You were… laughing with her… _she_ was laughing. I… I realized… I don’t laugh. I don’t laugh like that for you. And maybe… maybe you would get tired of me not laughing… Maybe you’d give up on me, maybe you’d love someone like her instead…”

He just looked at her, “Is that why you took that pill from Mor?”

She nodded, looking down abashedly, “I though… maybe if I were more free, I’d laugh more… then you’d love me…”

He just smiled at her, “Oh, Nesta. I love you _more_ because you don’t laugh at my jokes. I love that you give me hell. I love you so much, sweetheart, so much. I can’t even imagine going back to the dreariness that was my life before you came along.”

 She looked up at him through her lashes, “So you don’t want me to be more... Free?”

 He shook his head gently, “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Nesta. Not one thing.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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